


Not Quite Yet

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Sam Winchester, M/M, Painful Labor, Pregnant Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There also seems to be one more thing to do, one more problem to be dealt with, so when Dean’s pains start he decides to push through.But even Dean Winchester can’t put this off forever, and his cries of pain bring his brother and his angel running to his side in the nick of time.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79
Collections: Supernatural Anon Kink Meme





	Not Quite Yet

“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, I know you’re in there, kiddo. Don’t need to keep reminding me.”

He finished filling the hot water bottle, wrapped it in a tea towel, and shuffled his way back through to the den. It was still early, but it felt like there was a wrestling match going on inside him so there was no chance of him getting to sleep again any time soon.

He settled down in his favourite chair, with the hot water bottle between it and his back, and flicked on the T.V. After a few minutes of channel hopping, he found a _Love Boat_ marathon.

Cheesy as hell, but about as deep as he was in the mood for just then. Sighing as his muscles started to loosen up under the heat, and his kid started to ease up on his insides, Dean snagged a nearby pouffe with his foot and pulled it close enough to really get comfy.

When Cas found him there later, dozing, he covered him with a blanket, tucked him in, and settled down in the next chair to keep watch until his friend woke up.

++

The impact of a sudden, wholly unexpected pregnancy had certainly forced changes in their lives, but one of the things Dean wouldn’t budge on was that he cooked for his family.

Sam had protested (he’d have had Dean on 24/7 bed rest if he thought it was a fight he could’ve won) but knew Dean would have his way, and Cas got it; Dean had had to give up a lot now he was carrying a baby, and he was desperate to hold on to whatever was left, and so didn’t fight Dean on him still doing the things that were safe.

Some days, Dean didn’t grudge any of the sacrifices he’d made for his and Sam’s kid, but there were days (mostly down to hormones, he knew) where it was all so fucking unfair because even after he popped out a baby (and he was going to develop an extra orifice down there, or so Cas said, and Sam could have been a little more sympathetic when he asked Dean, after he’d expressed horror at the idea of it, how he _thought_ the baby was going to get out) it wasn’t like their lives would just go back to how they were before.

They would have a kid to look after, all three of them, so hunting would probably be a thing of the past. They could maybe, _maybe_ , set up some kind of hub for hunters still doing the actual job, maybe even a shelter or half way house of sorts, but those endless road trips in the Impala, going where they wanted or where they were needed and booking a room in a motel for the night…

Dean might have complained about stained, sagging mattresses, and cockroaches in the shower, and he was always glad to get back home again, but he loved being on the road, opening up his baby and roaring into town.

Having the bunker to come back to made it even better, a place he’d turned into an actual home for his family, but Dean wasn’t sure he could cope with their circumstances forcing him to stay there. 

Even if, for a while, he’d toyed with the idea of the three of them giving it up and settling down, he’d wanted it to be when he was ready and on his terms.

And this was what he got instead.

But those dark days didn’t come around too often, and when they did, he’d find himself hugged and ensconced in the den with hot chocolate and a movie marathon and his brother and his angel doing their best to buoy his mood. 

Or, if that wasn’t working, the king sized bed in the biggest guest room could easily hold three, and Dean usually ended up sandwiched (carefully) in between the other two, sniffling and feeling both ridiculous and vulnerable, until he felt better or feel asleep or both.

Mostly, though, he just wanted the delivery date to come around so he didn’t feel like he’d really let himself go on burgers and fries, so he could watch Die Hard 2 without crying because the cop let John off with the parking ticket at the end, and because he wanted to welcome their little boy or girl into the world, and introduce her to her other dad and her uncle.

But there was only a month to go, and Dean could hold on that long.

++

Back when the last of the refugees had left, Dean couldn’t deny he was glad they’d gone.

Taking them in had been the right thing to do, and he didn’t regret that (not entirely, at least not the ones who _hadn’t_ been bastards to Cas, but those dicks were the ones moved on sooner rather than later, and not by their own choice), but it was a relief to have it be just them in their own home again, and not be tripping over a bunch of strangers, and figuring out how to feed an extra twenty mouths or so when their sources of income were limited to scamming people at pool or darts, and carrying out increasingly risky credit card frauds.

So it was a downer when a handful of them came back, finding this new world a little overwhelming (which stunned Dean, honestly, because it was a hell of a lot better than apocalypse world). They’d struggled out there, they said, even with the new identities Dean and Sam had set up for them, and that wasn’t even trying to hunt.

That was just trying to survive.

Dean got it, he did, but with him now only a couple of weeks tops from giving birth, he didn’t need the extra pressure or responsibility and he certainly didn’t need other people living in their home when the time came.

Sam had offered to get them to leave, telling Dean nothing came before him and their kid, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how badly he wanted it to be just him, Sam and Cas again.

It wasn’t long term, anyway, Dean had made certain to be clear on that; he and Sam had already reached out through what was left of the hunter network, and found a couple of people who knew somebody who was looking for staff, and so by the end of the week, the bunker would be their own again.

Dean couldn’t wait; the last thing he wanted was to be in labour while people who were not his family were wandering about their home.

Maybe that was why he didn’t say anything when he starting getting pains in his back and his stomach. There were intermittent, and he’d had worse, so he persuaded himself it was just…

Nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing to do with his condition.

Besides, if he said anything, Cas and Sam would kick the refugees out, and Dean wasn’t going to toss somebody off a cliff when they had nowhere else to go and nobody else to count on.

He’d done that before, and maybe the refugees weren’t family, and maybe the situation was different, but he’d told himself it wouldn’t happen again.

Anyway, a little discomfort was nothing so Dean kept quiet about it, and helped Sam and Cas get their unexpected guests ready to hit the road again.

++

It was maybe after 2am when Dean woke up because he was convinced somebody was stabbing him in the gut.

Panic overtook him, and he was reaching under his pillow for his gun when he realised the pain was moving from the inside, out.

Fuck.

Panting, he pushed himself upright, and awkwardly swung his legs around so he could put his feet on the floor.

Over the past few days, the pain he’d been experiencing had gotten more frequent and more severe, but Dean had pushed it aside because the last couple of refugees had been clinging on like limpets to a rock and sorting them out (and getting them out) had taken preference over his discomfort.

Besides, he was Dean Winchester. He could handle it, and he didn’t want Sam and Cas fussing over him.

Not just yet, anyway.

But only a few hours before, Sam had coaxed their final guests into leaving, and nobody had knocked at their door since, so maybe this time they would stay gone unless there was some dire emergency.

Dean kind of felt like he was having one of his own, just then. He rubbed at his back, breathing deep and steady, as he paced his room.

He considered praying to Cas or yelling to Sam, but both his baby brother and the angel had been run ragged trying to care for him, the refugees, sort them out with new identities and jobs while making sure they kept both Dean and the bunker safe just in case their guests decided to try and get too comfy instead of moving on.

Besides, his waters hadn’t broken and he was pretty sure that ‘orifice’ Cas had spoken of wasn’t open yet (for the love of all that was holy, he was dead certain he’d have felt that). Which meant it might be hours yet before things really got underway. And if that was the case, then there was no point getting Sam out of bed and dragging Cas away from meditating or polishing his halo or whatever the angel did to relax (Dean knew fine well Cas was sleeping just like Sam, the better to support his reduced Grace), not until he really needed them.

Grimacing, Dean decided to head through to the den, and at least find something to watch on the TV to help distract him from the pain.

++

Sam woke up the minute he heard the scream.

It was loud, echoing through the corridors, and he knew the sound of someone in desperate pain.

And he also knew the sound of his _brother_ in desperate pain, and he wished to hell that he didn’t.

He was on his feet so fast that his head spun, but he pushed off the wall the moment he staggered into it and used the rebound to propel himself into the corridor.

Where he would have crashed to his knees again, except strong hands fastened around his arms and keep him upright.

“Cas,” he yelped, startled, but Cas was already turning him towards the den.

“Dean!”

Sam nodded and then Cas was running, pulling Sam behind him, and then they were at the den, pushing open the door, and bursting into the room.

Dean was on his hands and knees halfway to the door. He was panting like he’d just finished a marathon across rough terrain, and then he screamed again, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Both Sam and Cas dropped down beside him, and Dean almost sobbed with relief when he felt their hands on him, turning him gently so he was resting against Cas while Sam carefully reached up to cup his face.

“How far apart are your contractions?” Sam asked.

“Right...fuck...right on top of each other.”

“And you’re here? In the goddamn den? Why didn’t you-“

“Sam.” Cas shut him up with just that, and Sam felt his cheeks tinge with shame. “Dean, how bad is the pain, and where it is centred?”

“Feels like…”. Dean groped for Cas’s hand, found it, squeezed. “Feels like I’m being stabbed from inside. Downward, like from my waist to my butt. And…”. He gestured weakly between his legs, and Cas nodded at Sam’s worried stare.

Sam was as quick but as gentle as he could be, and pulled Dean’s sweat pants and underwear down his legs and then tossed them aside.

He…. He was intimately familiar with his brother, and there was definitely something there that hadn’t been before.

“Uh…. I think he’s ready.”

Dean paled, but the sudden physiological adaptation of his body got lost in the next contraction and he screamed again.

Cas put a hand lightly on his forehead, and there was a gleam of light before Dean sagged between them.

“That’ll ease the pain, Dean, but I can’t stop it altogether.”

Dean nodded, but he was shimmering with sweat. “How the fuck do women do this,” he panted. “And more than once.”

Sam didn’t answer; he could see Dean’s opening starting to stretch and a messy patch of hair peeking out.

“Do you feel the urge to push?”

Dean nodded, looking scared but desperate. 

“Then push,” Sam said. “Come on, Dean, we’re here and we’ve got you. Push.”

Dean took a breath, bore down, and screamed again.

++

Sam stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb, body jangling with post adrenaline exhaustion.

He looked into the bedroom, where Dean was sleeping, and their little boy was also asleep in the crib they’d built for him.

Cas crept quietly towards him, and beckoned Sam into the corridor.

“They’re both fine,” he assured Sam. “And you need to get some sleep as well.”

The yawn came from nowhere, and with it a sudden lack of balance; had Cas not grabbed his arm, Sam knew he would have face planted on the deck.

“Cas,” he protested, but the angel was already turning him towards the next bedroom over.

“You’ll be close enough if they need you,” Cas assured him. “And I’ll keep watch over all three of you.”

Three. Sam found himself grinning giddily. He was a dad. Dean was a dad.

And Cas was now an uncle.

“You know,” he said, words broken by another yawn, “if Dean ever had a kid, or I did, one of us was gonna be the cool uncle, teaching ‘em all kinds of shit their dad wouldn’t. Guess that falls to you, now, Cas.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “As if you both being fathers will stop either of you educating your child in pranks or otherwise inappropriate activities. You’ll probably compete with each other to see who can teach him the most. I’ll be the one on damage repair.”

Sam grinned, and turned away from his bed long enough to pull the angel into a hug.

When he let go, Cas looked almost puzzled at the sudden affection.

“For being here,” Sam said. “For being our family.”

He didn’t complain when Cas tucked him in, and turned out the lights, and he was fast asleep before the angel had even left the room.


End file.
